The Ex Factor. Nancy Warren

a country-and-western singer with too much of everything. Big hair, big heels, big breasts, big butt.

      She was a few minutes early, because it was her way, and stopped to stare unseeing at a booth selling nothing but spices. She never should have agreed to this date with Ron the CPA.

      Somehow, this was all Dexter’s fault. If he hadn’t got her so riled up she never would have agreed to a date with some guy she met over the Internet.

      However, she realized that whatever her reasons for being here, she wasn’t about to stand this man up. It wasn’t his fault she was an idiot. So, they’d have coffee. An hour of her life would be wasted, and then she could get back to attempting to make something of the years left to her.

      On that optimistic thought, she made her way to the busy coffee shop and immediately spotted Ron, who was standing near the entrance, obviously as punctual as she was.

      He looked exactly like his photo. Exactly like a CPA. And suddenly she relaxed. He was reassuringly unassuming, no other women were covertly studying him or overtly drooling. He was the kind of man who wouldn’t forever be tempted to stray, which had to be a good thing.

      She forced a smile to her face and walked up to him. “Hello, you must be Ron. I’m Karen.”

      They shook hands. He seemed pleased by her punctuality, insisted on buying her a coffee and they settled at a table.

      For a moment, neither spoke. Finally he said, “You’re very punctual. It’s a quality I admire.”

      Oh, how old-fashioned he sounded. What was she even doing here? Her mind flashed back to the night before, when she’d been humiliatingly close to parting her thighs and doing her ex-husband in the parking lot. Something had to change, and fast. She smiled at him. “I feel the same way.”

      Now that she looked at him, she saw that behind his glasses he had warm gray eyes. He was fairly forgettable until you took note of those eyes. He was dressed neatly, in jeans that bore such sharp creases she suspected he ironed them, a polo shirt he’d probably bought at Costco or Sam’s Club and a well-worn leather jacket.

      Another pause ensued, while they both took refuge in sipping coffee, and finally she blurted, “I have no idea how to do this. I’m so sorry, it’s my first time.” She sighed, sensing the genuine niceness of this man, and opened up even more. “In fact, it’s been a long time since I had any kind of a date. I’m so out of practice I have no idea where to begin.”

      It was as though her confession took all the awkwardness out of their date. Ron nodded with sweet understanding. “It sucks. Really.”

      She was surprised into a spurt of laughter by his sad admission.

      Then realizing how that must sound, he added, “I don’t mean meeting you, but online dating is a new skill you have to learn.” He shrugged. “I’ve been doing this for a few months now and I find the hardest part is that people often, when they write their profiles, put a description of what they wish they were like rather than something that’s actually true.”